


Queen of the North

by rhiaofthemyscira



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Reunions, Sansa-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-18 13:23:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7316926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhiaofthemyscira/pseuds/rhiaofthemyscira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is only one true King of the North and her name is Stark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hail Sansa Stark Queen of the North

**Author's Note:**

> This is set after Season 6 episode 9. I wrote this before watching episode 10. This is one version of an outcome that I wish would happen. I really enjoy Sansa's evolution so far and as always I love Arya. This is un-Beta'd so I apologize for errors.

     Once again entering the damaged remains of her childhood home, this time under the stoic wolf banners of her father’s house, her house, Sansa finally feels at home. She is no longer the same silly little girl who left these walls in the King’s convoy all those years ago, eager for a marriage to a golden haired prince and to embrace the life of a southern lady. She has spent the years since training her mind and hardening her heart to embrace the spirit of the North. Those southerners may have been able to take her out of the North but they could never truly take the North out of her. The North always remembers, it is not a place to be tamed, it requires sacrifice and justice to maintain order. It may have taken her many years but Sansa has finally learned those lessons. She must put aside her own feelings to do whatever it takes to free her people from the monster Ramsey Bolton, even if that meant putting her pride and comfort aside to ask Petyr Baelish for help.

    It was worth it in the end, she may have lost her dear little brother Rickon but they won the battle. Not that she was really expecting to be able to save him, she knows Ramsey too well. There was no way he would ever have allowed Rickon to live. Some of the men may think that Jon Snow is now the heir to the north, that the northern gods have chosen him to lead them in this time of war. But she knows and so does he, the gods have other plans for him, for she is the true born Stark with an icy heart fit to rule the North.

     To pay his respects, Jon left her the pleasure of killing the bastard herself. As his own dogs tear out Ramsey’s throat, Sansa cannot help but smile, justice has finally returned to the North.

* * *

  
     Later that night at the celebration for the liberation of Winterfell, Sansa gazes around the hall, there not many familiar faces left from her childhood yet she finds them one by one each more withered and aged than the last. The winter has been hard on everyone but while all the lords fight among themselves for power it is really the smallfolk who are suffering the most. With armies rampaging around the land their crops are pillaged or destroyed. Their stores for winter are ripped away leaving them starving and frail. She knows all too well the importance of a strong army and a competent military commander for she has seen armies rise and fall, lords killed in cold blood and armies slaughtered. But while these men might know something about killing other men, they have very little knowledge of politics, negotiations, or actually caring for the people they serve, let alone knowing how to play the game of thrones. But Sansa has learned from the best, she has observed Queen Cerci and Margery at their best, manipulating men to do their will. She has learned from Tyrion the Imp with his silver tongue that not battle are won with swords, many are won with words.

     So when the men rise up to pronounce Jon Snow Lord of Winterfell, Sansa takes a stand. Before Jon could acknowledge their chants, Sansa raises her voice to the room.

     “While my brother helped lead the fight to take down our Bolton oppressors, he is not a true born Stark. Let us not forget that Ramsay Bolton killed the heir to Winterfell just this morning. Until the time comes when my brother Brandon and my sister Arya are found, _I_ am the last true born Stark and the rightful heir to Winterfell! It is only by the aid of _my_ cousin the Lord of the Vale that we were able to be victorious tonight. It is the Vale’s loyalty to the Stark and Tully name that have liberated the North. Jon Snow is a man of valor and a superior warrior but he is not a Lord of Winterfell. In the south I have learned all about their foul tricks and disregard for the North and her people. It is time for the Starks to rule the independent nation of the North once again and I shall be your Queen!”

     The hall fell silent, the clattering of a dropped cup could be heard ringing across the hall. Not one person dared move or speak, the shock of Sansa’s words paralyzed them in their seats. The first person to move was Jon himself, rising from his seat he raised is glass “Hail Sansa Stark, Queen in the North!” his words were quickly followed by Lady Mormont jumping to her feet and raising her glass to join in the cheer. Soon after the hall erupted into cheers of praise, the men were calling her name and chanting praises of the North.

     Raising her hand to silence the crowd, Sansa once again resumed her address, “In recognition for his valor and demonstrated leadership, I appoint John Snow as the commander of the northern forces, he shall have full jurisdiction over the armies of the North while I will help lead the effort to strengthen Winterfell and all of the north from the perils that are to come. We may have won today but the war for survival is far from over. Winter is upon us and we must be ready.”

     Once again the cheers of soldiers, servants, and lords a like filled the hall with cheers of “Sansa”, “Stark”, “Snow”, and “The North”.

* * *

  
    After the feast Sansa found herself in her old room, she could not bring herself to take the chamber of the Lord of Winterfell it is only a reminder of the fate of her mother and father. The only thing that remained of her childhood was the sturdy walls and the window that looked out onto the courtyard of Winterfell, the inside has long since been pillaged and the bedding changed. But she still feels more at home than she has in over 6 years.

    Finally away from the fighting and the constant stream of people who needed something from her, Sansa can finally just think. Here in her childhood home, her thoughts wander back to her family, the ones she lost so long ago. So far she has only been able to regain Jon, back then he was the brother she didn’t even acknowledge, but now he is a lifeline, a piece of her past she can still cling onto. She thinks about her parents, both murdered in cold blood before their time. Her eldest brother Robb who was killed trying to fight a war to reclaim his family. Her youngest brother was killed just that morning in sight of freedom but mercilessly slaughtered before he had the chance to become a man. That left just two of her siblings unaccounted for. Jon says that he saw Bran a few years ago on his way beyond the wall to find the three-eyed raven, so there is hope that one day he may return to her. And finally her thoughts fall to her only sister Arya.

    No one has seen Arya since that fateful day in Kings Landing, no one knows where she could be, or even if she is dead or alive. Sansa remembers as children they fought over everything, never quite seeing eye to eye. Yet now, Sansa misses her most of all. She admires little Arya, for what took 6 grueling years for Sansa to discover, Arya knew right from the beginning, life is nothing like the songs and you must fight for everything you have. Prince Jeoffrey was most definitely a liar and a little shit, Sansa chuckles, Arya saw that from the moment she met him. Sansa thinks that if only she could see her sister again, she is sure they would be closer than ever, two true northern girls fighting for what is theirs against the cruelty of a man’s world. If only she could find her, oh what she would give to have her sister fighting by her side. As Sansa drifts off to sleep she dreams of what Arya might look like now after 6 years on her own.

* * *

  
     Weeks pass, the rebuilding of Winterfell is slow work, the men are exhausted, materials are scarce and there is just so much damage. But little by little the fortress is returning to its former glory. For Sansa, every day is filled with building projects to oversee, disputes to be resolved, northern lords to meet with and have them swear fealty to her. It seems that she never has a moment to rest. From sunrise to well past sun down she is working, putting in everything to prove her worth as Queen of the North.

     Everyday new people arrive at the castle, looking for work or seeking refuge from the harsh winter. With them come news from across Westeros, there are rumors of an alliance of the Sea Lords and the Dragon Queen, of a trial of Cerci Lannister in Kings Landing, and of the supposed reemergence of the famed Hound. But the rumor that captured Sansa’s interest is the rumors of shadow killer and a wolf girl. They say that those who betrayed the Starks are dropping like flies one by one. No one has ever seen the killer, it just slips in and out without a trace except for a dead lord and the words Valar Morghulis written in blood. Some swear it is a wolf god come to exact vengeance for the Starks, some even claim to have seen a giant wolf running through the forest.

      _Arya_ Sansa thinks, it has to be Arya. She clings onto these rumors and askes any visitors or new comers to tell her more stories about this wolf god.  
Then one day, as she is negotiating with some lords over the allocation of wildling lands, she hears shouts from the courtyard. Excusing herself from the negotiation, Sansa makes her way to the courtyard as fast as would be appropriate for a Queen. Stepping out into the courtyard is like walking into a dream, there on the back of a giant wolf – a direwolf, is a young woman with wild brown hair and piercing grey eyes, Arya.

     Sansa puts aside all attempt at looking stately and dashes across the yard to her sister “Arya!” she shouts with arms wide open. She can’t believe that at last she is not alone more of her family is coming home. As she approaches the direwolf – Nymeria she guesses, Arya slides down from the back of the wolf and waits for Sansa’s arrival. Upon reaching her sister, Sansa flings her arms around Arya in a bone crushing embrace, and a little awkwardly, as if she has forgotten how to hug, Arya returns her embrace.

“My dear sister, welcome home”


	2. Arya Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Arya have some long awaited bonding time.

     “ _Sansa_ ” Arya breaths into Sansa’s neck. Pulling back from the embrace, Sansa truly looks at Arya for the first time in 6 years.

     Arya has aged, she is not the same girl Sansa last saw in King’s Landing. Her hair is shorter, she has grown taller, more muscular, and hardly makes a sound when she moves. But the most startling difference is her eyes, they are not the same eyes of a determined rebellious girl who wants to fight the world; they are cold eyes, the eyes of a killer.

     But she is still her sister, in flesh and blood and alive. Also, Sansa supposes that she has changed too, it has been 6 years and the war forces people to grow up fast, for in the game of thrones you win or you die, killed or be killed.

     Hooking her arm through Arya’s, Sansa leads her into the hall and out of the snow covered courtyard. Arya hasn’t said a word since her initial greeting, she just walks silently next to Sansa, her body tense as if she is expecting to be attacked at any moment. Sansa wonders what kind of horrors Arya must have seen to make her like this. And as much as Sansa wants to ask right now, she has learned patience and knows now is not the time. Arya will share her past when she is ready, now is time to just celebrate that her sister is here and alive. The wolf pack is slowly coming together again and Sansa will not let it be torn apart again.

     Sansa leads Arya directly to her old room, Sansa started preparing it for Arya’s return as soon as she heard rumors about the wolf spirit. It was her way of praying that Arya would one day return to her. Once they reach the room, Sansa leads Arya inside and guides her to the bed. As they sit down the first thing Sansa asks is if Arya would like a bath and a fresh change of clothes, she knows that now is not the time to ask personal questions for they are still getting reacquainted with each other, after being apart for so long they are almost like strangers.

     Arya nods, “A bath would be nice” she replies with just the faintest of smiles. Beaming at the small victory, Sansa calls for a servant to draw up a bath and prepare some clothes. While repairing the castle and conducting inventory, Sansa had found some old trunks of clothes from their childhood. Upon finding some of Robb’s old breeches she immediately though of Arya and had some set aside for her. For she knew that trying to put Arya in a dress was not a battle she wanted to fight.

      They sat in silence while the bath was being drawn up and the clothes prepared, Sansa offers to leave Arya to bathe in private. But instead of nodding in agreement like Sansa expected, Arya shakes her head “No, please stay”. Surprised, but secretly glad, Sansa lowers herself back down on to the bed.

      As Arya undresses, Sansa gets a glimpse at her life over the past 6 years. Arya’s skin is riddles with scars, some so small Sansa can only see them if she squints and the light is just right, and others so large that they are a blaring sign of the hardships Arya has survived. The most prominent are several stab wounds that littered her abdomen. They are still pink as if freshly healed and Sansa is amazed that Arya managed to survive wounds like those. But at the same time she isn’t surprised, this is Arya after all, her will alone would keep her alive.

     “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed hot baths, I’ve missed Winterfell, and I’ve missed you Sansa,” Arya said to no one, her back facing Sansa as she enters the warm water of the bath. Sansa can actually see the stress leaving her sister’s shoulders as she relaxes into the tub. Arya looks so small there curled up in the bath, she looks vulnerable as if she is one again the small girl who left Winterfell so many years ago.

     Not entirely sure how to respond, Sansa drags a stool over to the tub and sits down behind Arya to begin gently combing her fingers through Arya’s course and tangled hair. “I’ve missed you too, sister. I know we weren’t close when we were children. But these past few months, I could think of little else in my spare time other than wanting to see your face again. We’ve lost so much of our family, we must stick together now for the lone wolf dies while the pack survives”

      “I’m never leaving the North again and don’t think you can try to marry me off so some lord because if that is your plan I will leave now and live with the wolves in the forest,” Arya replies.

      So she has not changed that much then, “I wouldn’t dream of it dear sister, Winterfell is your home and will be your home as long as you wish it to. We are Starks of Winterfell and no one will take that from us”

      “Good.”

      The rest of the bath passes by in a comfortable silence. Sansa cleans the grime and tangles from Arya’s matted hair and soon it begins to shine once again. After scrubbing every last speck of dirt from her skin, Arya rises out of the bath in search of a towel. Sansa takes this as her cue to give Arya the clothes she had prepared for her. “I thought you might like to wear these to dinner”

      “I’m not wearing some silly dress…” Arya begins before inspecting the clothes in Sansa’s hands. “These are… “

      “Yes they are breeches, Robb’s old ones to be exact. I thought you might like them more than one of my dresses”

       “Thank you,” that was all Arya could manage in reply, before quickly putting on the wolf crested breeches and tunic. They were a little big, but so much better than the various disguises she has had to wear over the past few years. They were Stark clothes, she was home at last.

      “Supper will be ready soon, why don’t we go down hall” Sansa offers when Arya finished changing and marveling at the clothes in the mirror.

      “I don’t want some fancy feast Sansa.”

      “I know that, it will be a private meal, just family.”

      “Okay, let’s go then, I haven’t had a proper meal in who knows how long.” As if to prove her point, Arya’s stomach growls in agreement.

      Right before entering the hall, Sansa stopped and turned to Arya “I have a little surprise for you.”

     Arya raised her eyebrow looking skeptical, “should I be excited or scared?”

     “You’ll like it I promise.”

      Cracking open the door the view of the hall slowly spread out in front of them, and there waiting at the table is a man dressed in black with a silver wolf crest on his tunic. His wild dark hair tied back in a bun and as he turns his face towards the opening doors, his face splits into a wide grin.

      “Arya!”

      “Jon!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I may continue if there is enough interest. I don't have a full story planned out so I'm making each chapter one at a time.


	3. Where do we go from here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The North takes a stand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left comments/kudos! They help provide inspiration for more chapters!

     Flinging herself across the room, Arya jumped into Jon’s outstretched arms. Sansa would have been a little jealous if she had not known how close Arya and Jon were when they were children. It was to be expected that Arya would be more excited to see Jon than to see her sister.

     “I didn’t know you were in Winterfell!” Arya exclaimed.

     “I was out on patrol when I got a raven from Sansa of your return. I dropped everything and came back here as fast as I could. I would to anything to see my baby sister again” Jon explained, still clutching Arya as if she were his life line.

     “I’m not a baby anymore Jon.”

     “So, I’ve heard. But to me, you will always be my baby sister.” Jon chuckled, slowly lowering Arya to the floor. “Look how tall you have grown.”

     “I’m still not as tall as you or Sansa” Arya pouted. But she quickly smiled again twirling around “Look at the clothes Sansa gave me!”

     “They are fitting for a warrior princess of the North”

     “I know right!” Arya excitedly replied before frowning in confusion. “Princess of the North? I’m no princess.”

     “Ah but you are dear sister,” Sansa quickly piped in, “House Stark has declared independence in the North once again and I am the Queen, so that makes you, my sister, a princess.”

     Scrunching her nose Arya replied “But no one would want me for a princess. Princesses are supposed to be gentle and kind and pretty. I’m none of those things.” Falling in to a barely audible whisper she added “I’m just a killer.”

     Sansa couldn’t help but laugh at Arya’s reply. She had yet to meet a princess that meet those qualifications. Those certainly described princesses in the stories but in real life? Princesses were no better than the rest of them. Some were kinds and some were cruel, some beautiful, some less so, some were gentle but those soon died for in Sansa’s experience: only the strong survive.

     “There is no right way to be a princess, Arya. You are a member of House Stark and that makes you a princess no matter what form you take. You can be our warrior princess of the North and ride beside Jon in front of our armies to instill fear into the hearts of our enemies. You can stay here and ride with the wolves, or you can choose to settle down and live a quiet life. You can do whatever you want, Arya. No one is going to stop you. We’ve had enough fighting, I don’t give a rats ass over proper form anymore, Winter is here and the only way we will survive is to work together.” Sansa told Arya, falling into her stately, Queen-like tone.

     “Wow you really have changed, Sansa. I like this new you” Arya smiled up at her sister before bowing her head and frowning once again. “But I don’t know if you would still say those words once you learn of what I have done.”

     “You couldn’t have possible done anything that would make us love you any less, Arya,” Jon reassured her. “You are our sister and we will stand by your side no matter what.”

     “I’m not going to repent my actions, or say they were wrong. I did what I thought was right and I distributed justice to our enemies. But there is no way around it. I am a killer, an assassin trained by the House of the Black and White, a faceless man,” Arya sighed. “You two may accept it, but I doubt the rest of the people will.”

     “Who gives a damn about what other people think. We’re a family and we’re not going to abandon you Arya. Besides in this time of war, I think people will be happy we have a skilled assassin on our side. You make us stronger,” Sansa concluded. “Now, why don’t we just enjoy this meal together and worry about politics tomorrow.”

     Smiling Arya and Jon nodded in agreement and for the first time in 6 years, Sansa shared a meal with her sister.

* * *

 

     The next morning, Sansa was woken by a servant informing her that a raven had arrived bearing an odd seal. Rising from her bed, Sansa pulled on a robe and motioned for the letter. Once the letter was in her hands, she began to inspect the seal. She recognized it immediately but she could see why the servant was confused, for on the seal was a dragon, the symbol of a house destroyed before Sansa was born.

     Intrigued, Sansa pulled the letter open:

                _Dear Lady Stark,_

_Your presence is requested in King’s Landing to pay your respects and swear fealty to the new Queen of the Seven Kingdoms Daenerys Targaryen, the Mother of Dragons. The Starks have long since held the North and Her Grace is willing to allow the Starks to remain as Warden of the North so long as they swear fealty to her._

_Tyrion Lannister_

_Hand of the Queen_

 

     So yet another ruler has taken the throne Sansa sighs, just a few weeks ago she heard tell that Tommen and Margery had died and Cersei was Queen once again. Now it appears a new Queen has taken command of King’s Landing. Honestly, Sansa couldn’t care less. While the South was squabbling over the throne the North have been preparing for the real war to come, the one between the Living and the Dead.

     Walking over to her desk, Sansa sat down to pen a reply.

_Dear Queen Daenerys Targaryen,_

_I would like to congratulate you on your victory in King’s Landing. The North does not wish to contest your position and will recognize you as the Queen in the South. However I must respectfully decline your summons._

_First, I do not have the time nor resources to make a journey South at this time. We are preparing for a war against the true enemy, the enemy of all living things, the White Walkers. You may laugh at these tales, but I assure you they are very real and they are at our doorstep. The Night’s Watch struggles to hold them at bay beyond the Wall. Thousands of wildings have already perished and joined their army of the dead. My brother Jon has seen them with his own eyes. I must implore you to send aid, I hope we can be allies in this fight._

_Second, I cannot swear fealty to you. The North has suffered at the hands of Southern leaders. long enough, and we declare independence from the Iron Throne. The North is vast and untamable, we have problems that the South cannot comprehend. We are weary from having to abide by a southern ruler who does not take our problems seriously. I am speaking for my people in this matter and it is for their welfare that I make this stand. The North is willing to have a peaceful alliance with the South, but never again shall we bow to the Iron Throne._

_Sansa Stark_

_Queen in the North_

 

     Satisfied with her answer, Sansa sealed the letter with the Stark Wolf head sigil and handed it back to the servant. “See to it that this letter is sent to the Red Keep immediately.”

“It shall be done your Grace.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As said in previous chapters, this story will continue as long as I have inspiration, I don't really have a plan for it. Comments help give me inspiration ^_^


	4. King's Landing

Tyrion POV:

     The past few weeks have been, frankly, insane. Tyrion has been running around as fast has his short legs can carry him to talk with some lord, or oversee the placement of the unsullied as part of castle guard, or deal with a dispute among the Dothraki, again…. There just seems to be a never ending of tasks to perform as the Hand of the Queen. For now there is a tentative peace in the capital as everyone is still reveling in the final fall of his sister. There was a small part of him that was a little sorry for his sister, after all she was just trying to make the most of the shitty cards she had been dealt as a woman. But, he is loyal to his Queen, and his sister did put a death sentence on his head.

     He knew before they arrived in Westeros that this battle would not be over as quickly as Dany presumes. Yes, the capital may have fallen in a matter of hours thanks to her overwhelming numbers and you know well, _the dragons_. But there is more to winning the Iron Throne that just sitting on it. It takes alliances and compromise to hold it. It requires appointing people you can trust to distribute your justice in the far reaches of the land. Westeros is not Meereen, it is much larger than one city and it cannot be held by one family alone.

     However they did have some luck in this matter, thanks to his dear sister, most of the remaining houses hatted her so much that they would gladly form and alliance with Dany to help rid Cersei of her power (and her head). So for now there was peace, as the houses move to rebuild themselves; content now that their mutual enemy was dead. But how long will this peace last, how long will the houses be content to just sit by and let Dany, with her dragons, Dothraki and Unsullied, invade Westeros. As much as he tries to advise Dany on the ways of the people of Westeros, ultimately she really doesn’t know much about the game of thrones and she has never even lived in Westeros. It is hard to make the best decisions for a people she doesn’t know. At least Tyrion is well acquainted with the problems and politics of Westeros, he just prays to every god he knows that she will listen.

     The latest problem he has been dealing with for the past week is the mystery surrounding his sister’s death. Dany had purposely sparred her life in the initial battle so that Cersei could stand trial before the people, and so all of the great houses, which wanted vengeance, could be in attendance to watch her demise. However just over a week ago, Cersei was found dead in her cell, well most of her was anyway. Her head was found mounted on a pike on the walls of the Red Keep not unlike the heads of the Stark household at the beginning of Joffrey’s reign. She had a list of enemies a mile long that would have wanted her dead, but who had the skill to break into the castle dungeons, remove her head, and put in on a bloody spike _without anyone seeing a thing._ The discovery that there would not be a trial after all angered many, and since in the end Cersei was dead, he was able to help Dany through consoling the Martel and Tyrel families with the promise that the culprit with be found. But since the start of his investigation, he had come up with nothing. Even with Varys and his little birds helping, no one had seen a bloody thing.

     Well that is not entirely true, the guard that was on duty around the time of the murder was found dead a few days ago stuffed in a supply closet. One serving woman said she saw a suspicious boy carrying a package through the servants’ quarters, and one delirious old man swears he saw an angel descending from the sky.  So really he had nothing. The guard’s throat was slit, that could have been done by anyone, no one had ever seen or heard of the boy before or after the woman’s tale, and well frankly that old man wasn’t make a whole lot of sense. Honestly what bothered him more than the “who” was the “how” did someone manage to get in and out of the castle completely undetected. He had never seen the Keep this well staffed or guarded, and yet someone managed it.

     He supposes that it probably has something to do with the death of the Frey’s who were found with their throats slit, or in the case of a few of the sons, baked into a pie. But sneaking into Walder Frey’s run down castle and past his pathetic excuse for an army was one things, going undetected through the most fortified castle in Westeros, probably the world, is quite another. Varys had come up with one possibility, the Faceless Men, the legendary assassins of Bravos, said to be able to change their face at will. And after looking at all the evidence, as pathetically little as it was, it really is the only possibility. But that brings up a whole other slew of questions. Why are they in King’s Landing? Did someone only pay for Cersei’s death or are there more targets? Are they still here? Who knows, not even Varys could know the answer to that.

     Tyrion continued his train of thought as he made his way to the council chambers, coming up with his report for the small council on the progress of the investigation. Entering the room he found the rest of the small council waiting for him. Varys had reclaimed his position as Master of Whispers, while the rest of the small council had yet to be assigned specific roles, the members consisted of Olenna Tyrel, Greyworm, Ellaria Sand, Missandei, and Yara Greyjoy, and of course Dany herself.

     “Good morning your Grace, and members of the small council. Pardon my late arrival, I have just returned from receiving the latest report on the investigation of my sister’s mysterious death.” Tyrion said, bowing before sitting down in the seat to the right of Dany as the Hand of the Queen.

     “Well, now that Tyrion is here, shall we get started” Dany said gathering everyone’s attention. “Our first order of business is going through the latest batches of ravens that have arrived from the outlying houses.” Ah yes, the ravens, Tyrion had lost count of the number of ravens he had sent in the name of the Queen these past few weeks. Hopefully today’s batch will all be favorable with words of consent.  

     The first few went by quickly with simple words of congratulations and promises of fealty. Some would make the journey within a few weeks and some begged for time. Dany was gracious and agreed to the terms of those who put out reasonable periods of waiting. Then at last they came to the final letter, this one with the easily recognizable sigil of the Direwolf. This perked Tyrion up a bit, he always did like the Starks, even if Ned was a bit too proud for his own good. But Tyrion had heard that Sansa was now the Lady of Winterfell and he still cared about the wellbeing of the girl. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone but he was very happy when he got word that she had survived the war.

     Opening the letter, Dany read the words out loud to the council. It started off the same as all the rest with congratulations on Dany’s ascension to the throne, but then there was silence. Dany paused before continuing “ _I must respectfully decline your summons_ ”. There was a gasp heard around the room, everyone had though that Starks were sure to accept the new leadership in King’s Landing for they too had a deep hatred for the Lannisters. As Dany continued to read the letter out loud, Tyrion grew more and more unsettled. There had to be some serious trouble in the North if they were outright refusing the Queen’s summons.

     He had heard rumors of these “White Walkers”, everyone in the south had, but they were just fairy tales, stories to tell children to do as their told. But if the North was calling up banners and preparing for war, maybe this was a serious threat after all. And as for the second claim, that the North had suffered long enough under Southern leadership well Tyrion couldn’t really disagree with that. He had seen firsthand what the Starks have suffered and he can’t really blame them for wanting to be independent. But that is not for him to decide, ultimately it is still up to the Queen.

     “Signed Sansa Stark, Queen in the North” finished Dany slowly putting the letter down on the table. Sighing she looked around the table, “So what shall we do about these Starks? They were leaders in the revolt against my Father and they have now refused to bow to the crown.”

     “I must advise against taking any action to attack the Starks. Their claims are valid and they are willing to have peace. The North is a vast and wild country full of people and customs we cannot understand. It would not be wise to make an enemy of them. Yes they were supporters of the Usurper Robert Baratheon, but is was one of their own that was kidnapped by your brother and killed before the battle was won.” Tyrion said, he would do everything in his power to keep Dany from starting another unnecessary war. Because dragons or no, the North would not concede, there is no surrender for them, not now. And secretly he did have a bit of a soft spot for the resilience of the Starks. He admired their honor and loyalty, and he can’t help but feel a little proud at how much Sansa has grown since their first meeting.

     “Your council has been heard Lord Tyrion, does anyone else have an opinion on the matter?” Dany questioned looking around the room.

     “The Starks are good people, your Majesty. My brother Theon was fostered in Winterfell and they treated him well. The Starks are an honorable family who will keep their word if they way they want peace. They are one of the oldest families in Westeros and they have always held the North. After witnessing the last few years where the Starks were scattered across the world following Robb’s death, there is no other family that should rule the North except the Starks” Yara added. Well said, Tyrion thought, he could not describe the situation much better. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell for there to be peace in the North.

     “Tyrion and Yara speak true your Grace. The Starks belong in Winterfell and we should not try to change that. I also have just happened across a piece of fascinating information you might want to hear regarding the Starks. My little birds tell me that the bastard Jon Snow has a more interesting parentage that we had previously thought. The rumors are that he is not the son of Ned Stark, but rather the bastard son of _Lyanna Stark_ _and Rhaegar Targaryen.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I decided to continue a bit with this story. I'm still not entirely sure where this is going to end, but for now I still have inspiration. This is my first story in over a year so I would really appreciate some feedback ^_^


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